by Caro Carson
Yes, he’d been unhappy since that rainy night, but now that they’d gotten married, he looked relaxed again. Her heart did a little flip. Being married to her mattered to him.
Sammy spotted her, promptly let go of his bottle so that it clattered onto the floor, then held up both arms with his little hands open. “Me.”
Jamie looked her way immediately. Like watching something bad happen in slow motion, Kendry watched a frown take over Jamie’s expression. Maybe even anger.
Her heart fell. He’d never been angry with her, not until today. Their wedding day.
“You need sunglasses,” he said, scooping the bottle up with one hand, hiking up Sam in his other arm. He practically stalked toward her.
“O-only for the next couple of hours,” she said, alarmed. “These drops wear off fast.”
“This is Texas. You need sunglasses. Good ones, to protect your eyes from UV rays.” He gestured for her to go ahead of him, back toward the frames and mirrors, then pulled the chair out for her. She sat.
I’m not your patient, she wanted to say. I’m not your employee. But because the saleswoman was eagerly standing by, Kendry held her tongue.
Jamie removed the disposable plastic rectangle from her face and started slipping sunglasses on her himself. He was quick about it, focused, like he was choosing the right needle for a medical procedure. The pair Jamie liked best cost more than three weeks of her rent. They were still cheaper than the other sunglasses that made his cut, so Kendry agreed with his choice.
As Jamie handed his credit card to the receptionist, Sam started his fussy cry, the one that said he’d had enough and this wasn’t where he wanted to be or what he wanted to be doing. Kendry bounced him on her hip as she waited by the exit. “Me, too, honey, I feel just the same,” she whispered.
Jamie walked up and reached around her to push the door open. For a moment, the three of them brushed bodies as Jamie gestured for Kendry to leave first. Sam grabbed for her new sunglasses.
“No,” she said, jerking her head an inch to dodge his inaccurate fist. “We can’t afford to break these.”
Jamie spoke quietly in her ear, words that sounded measured, but like he said them through clenched teeth. “Yes, we can.”
Kendry squeezed Sam a little tighter as they walked to the car. Sam was tired. She was tired.
Jamie was angry.
This wasn’t where she wanted to be or what she wanted to be doing, so she took a breath and dared to speak her mind.
“I think it’s time for me to go home.”
* * *
Home. The word paralyzed Jamie for a moment.
Today was the first day of making a new home for his son and himself. Could a man make a home with a woman he didn’t love?
Sudden doubt filled him.
Sam protested being set in his car seat, although Jamie had parked the truck in the shade of a tree, and the Texas heat wasn’t unbearable in September at this late hour of the day. Out of the corner of Jamie’s eye, he could see Kendry standing with her shoulders and her ponytail drooping, waiting to get in the backseat next to Sam.
“Let’s go get something to eat first, before we go home.” He just needed time. Just a little longer before he brought Kendry to his house. Permanently.
Did you carry a bride over the threshold when you were going to be parents and partners, but not lovers?
“Aren’t you worried about Sam?” she asked.
Jamie glanced through the open door at Sam, who had settled into his straps. “I’m always worried about Sam,” he said.
Now I’m worried about my wife on top of that.
He couldn’t say that out loud, not to a woman who was clearly too thin beneath her new scrubs and sneakers and sunglasses.
Kendry rubbed her forehead as she looked at Sam, too. “Maybe he needs to get home so he can sleep in his own crib. What if he’s fighting off pneumonia at this very second? What if we expose him to more germs at a restaurant? What if—”
“I don’t waste a lot of time on if. There’s always another if waiting to happen.”
Kendry looked away from him quickly.
Jamie looked in the other direction. That had sounded kind of harsh, he supposed. Kendry had no idea that the main reason Jamie had wanted to be married was to prevent a big State Department if from happening. She could become the key to Sam staying in Jamie’s custody, if...
Jamie was glad to have Kendry on his team and by his side, yet here he was, making a mess of their first day together. He still hadn’t found his balance after chasing down her bus at lunchtime. He’d practically forced her back to the E.R. with him, then to the licensing office, the courthouse, the grocery store, the optometrist. He hadn’t stopped to catch his breath, which meant she hadn’t had a chance to, either. “Let’s go somewhere we can sit for dinner. Sam will be fine.”
She looked back at him then, but he couldn’t read her expression behind the sunglasses. Her shoulders rose, then fell slightly, and he imagined he’d heard her sigh as she waited patiently for him to give her further instructions. She was so good at that, at waiting patiently while nurses and doctors and patients made their demands.
He didn’t want his wife’s life to be that way. When they were off duty, he wanted her to be his partner. Instead, he’d been dragging her in and out of buildings all day, telling her what to buy. Hell, he’d even chosen those sunglasses, and now he was informing her that she would eat in a sit-down restaurant...
“Unless you want drive-through?” he asked, feeling ludicrously unsure of what to say next.
“I have a headache, and I’d like to go home.” Kendry said it simply, as politely as a schoolchild. Her demeanor said she held as much hope as a student might when suggesting that a teacher change his plans.
“Maybe you have a headache from hunger. There are a couple of different places to eat near my house.”
Her eyebrows lifted a little, shifting the bangs that brushed the top of the dark frames. “I meant my home, not your house. I’d like to go to my home now. Unless...you aren’t working the night shift tonight, are you?”
Jamie shook his head, silently. They’d only been married a few hours, and she wanted to be alone. She wanted to leave him. And Sam. She wanted to leave them.
She had her own life to get back to, her own agenda. It was like arguing with Amina all over again. They weren’t on the same team; they didn’t share the same priorities. His head swam, but he tried to listen to Kendry’s next words.
“Then if you don’t need me to watch Sam tonight, you can take me to my place.” She said it patiently, so very patiently, like she was speaking to a child.
He was no child. He was her husband. Her husband, damn it.
“You’re not the babysitter. We’re married. It goes without saying, we now live together. We’ll get something to eat, then we’ll go to my house.”
Kendry didn’t move. She just stood there, wilting in the setting sun, unreadable in her sunglasses.
Jamie felt like a jerk for what seemed like the millionth time that day. “We can stop at your place and pack up your things first, although I thought we bought enough stuff to get you through the night and to work tomorrow.”
“You bought that stuff.”
“What?”
“You did. You decided we would go to the store. You decided which store, and you bought that stuff. You decided to get me glasses. You decided which shampoo I would use—”
“Because you were going to buy the cheapest thing—”
“Because I don’t have any money! I was being reasonable. Rational. Responsible.”
“You have money now. Pardon me if I don’t want my wife to wear plastic film on her face when she needs sunglasses.”
“I don’t have a dime. I’m not bringing anything to this
marriage. Pardon me if I don’t feel easy about spending someone else’s money on myself. And—and—and pardon me for needing all this stuff in the first place. I’m sorry your wife embarrasses you with her taped-up glasses, but I didn’t ask you to fix me. This is our first day of marriage, and I thought this was going to be all about Sam. Instead, all you’ve done is fix me.”
Jamie was speechless. Had he just been thinking that Kendry was too patient, too willing to take orders?
She tapped her new sneaker at his silence. “You’ve been angry at me the whole day.”
“I’m not angry at you.”
“You’ve spent the entire afternoon with your jaw clenched, biting out your words at me. Now you’ve got me angry, too.”
“I’m not angry at you.” His words bounced off the asphalt and the metal side of the truck, vibrating in the air.
Kendry crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m glad we got that cleared up. I don’t know how I could have thought you were angry.”
Her sarcasm surprised him, but her next words, spoken softly and seriously, cut him to the quick.
“Honestly, Jamie, sometimes a plan sounds better in theory. Actually marrying me seems to have you in knots, so let’s go undo it. I don’t want this.”
The pain was startling. This hurt every bit as much as arguing with Amina about leaving Afghanistan. This hurt every bit as much.
He was older now. Wiser. Passionate shouting matches didn’t solve anything. Hell, passion didn’t solve anything. He and Kendry had always been able to talk, but now here she was—
Yes, here she was. Kendry hadn’t thrown her hands in the air dramatically and stormed off to her own living quarters on a military base. She was standing right here, close enough to touch. Certainly close enough to talk to without shouting.
“You don’t want this,” he said, quietly affirming her words. “I do. I need this.”
Kendry leaned against the truck, took off the sunglasses and rubbed her eyes. “You need to fix me?”
“Not at all. I like you the way you are. I need a partner. I need you, because you are the one I...” He hesitated, unsure how to put his feelings into words. “You’re the one I trust. If I’m coming across as angry, it’s because I’m mad at myself for not realizing sooner that you needed money. When I think of how much soup I watched you eat, I hate myself. I’m sorry.”
She opened her eyes and looked at him. Jamie had a moment to notice how bright the green of her iris was compared to the black of her pupils.
“It’s not your fault that I’m on a tight budget,” she said. “In a way, it’s a compliment that you didn’t notice.” She scrunched her eyes closed a second later with a muttered “ouch” and hastily put her sunglasses back on.
“I’m sorry for dragging you into an eye exam,” Jamie said, and he leaned against the truck next to her, feeling worn out but hopeful at the same time. She was still here.
She was still here.
“It didn’t occur to me that getting new glasses meant you’d be spending your wedding day with your eyes dilated.”
“It’s okay,” she said, and with a wave of her hand, dismissed all the inconvenience of the eye exam.
That’s the way Kendry was, never carrying a chip on her shoulder, always ready to move past any obstacle. She was one of the nicest women he’d ever met.
It was why he’d married her. It was something Sam must have felt in her arms.
Jamie wanted to give her a hug. He really did.
He crossed his arms over his chest.
* * *
Kendry stole a glance at the man leaning against the truck with her, the man whose arms looked tanned and strong, muscles flexed, pulling his dress shirt taut as he crossed his arms over his chest.
“How would you have preferred to spend your wedding day?” Jamie asked.
I would have preferred to have you smiling at me in my white gown in a garden. I would have preferred to have you scoop me up with those strong arms to carry me to a white bed in a quiet room.
She hadn’t agreed to that kind of marriage. She had no right to expect that kind of day.
She couldn’t lie and tell him she wanted anything else, either. She was a terrible liar, so as usual, she deflected his question.
“I have a headache. I’m worried sick about Sam. I know that whether or not he gets pneumonia doesn’t depend on if we take him home right this moment. I know he’s sleeping just as soundly in his car seat as he would in a crib, but if I could have anything I wanted, I would go home and stretch out on a blanket on the floor next to him and fall asleep. I know being next to him won’t prevent pneumonia, either, but that’s what I really want to do.”
“In my home?”
She heard the tentative note of hope in his serious question. She wasn’t imagining it. He wanted her to say yes. He wanted her to live in his house. He wanted to be married to her. Her head hurt, but her heart lightened.
He spoke before she could answer. “Or did you want us to come to your home?” He didn’t sound like a doctor anymore, no longer sounded like he was her boss. “Do you have room for us at your place? I’m not sure where you live, but if you want, Sam and I could crash at your house.”
“Oh, no.” She didn’t want Jamie to see her place, ever. She didn’t want little Sam to lie on the cement floor of the converted garage she rented by the week. “My place isn’t, uh, child friendly...” Now it was her turn to trail off awkwardly.
“Jeez, we’re a pitiful pair.” Jamie said it with a bit of a smile on his face. He pushed away from the truck. “Let me think. What was it the prince wasn’t supposed to say? ‘Come to my castle and take care of my kid’?”
He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand for a moment, thinking. “Let me try this instead. Mrs. MacDowell, would you like to come to my castle and take a nap on a blanket with my kid? You can keep an eye on him, and I can cook you an omelet. I’m pretty sure the castle is low on everything except baby formula and a dozen eggs.”
Kendry knew she was blushing ten shades of red. Her headache wasn’t any better, but her husband’s teasing eased the tension in the air. She didn’t know how many times she’d already said it that day, but she said it once again: “Yes.”
Chapter Thirteen
Her wedding night was sensual, in its way. She stared up at the ceiling in the darkness and felt the cold air from the vent fall on her face. The pillow was plump and deep, and smelled of fabric softener. Her stomach did not growl, and her teeth felt clean and smooth and minty. She wore her new husband’s T-shirt as her nightgown. The rough cotton covered her shoulders and felt coarse on her stomach and tickled the tops of her thighs.
It wasn’t the sensuality of a man, but of a man’s shirt. Kendry Harrison, or rather, Kendry MacDowell, was once more settling for what she could get. She was married to a man, but she was having no wedding night. She was a guest in a bachelor’s spare room, sleeping in a bed that shared space with some weight-lifting equipment and an oversize stereo.
She heard the snuffle and quiet mew of a baby. Sam. Her baby. Kendry waited a moment, but she didn’t hear the sound of Jamie’s footsteps going to check on the baby.
In this one area, then, she didn’t have to compromise. If Sam was her baby, then she’d go check on him.
She tiptoed into the hallway, feeling like an intruder. Jamie’s house was enormous. Never in her life had she lived in something with so much square footage. Her parents had sometimes bunked with friends. Kendry could remember sleeping in the back of a minivan, the Woodstock-era Volkswagen type. She’d been cozy, squashed between Mom and Dad, at least until she’d gotten older and had been to school another semester or two in America and figured out that not everyone lived that way. In fact, no one else lived that way. No one except Kendry Harrison and her wacky, hippie parents.
Would Sam ever know that kind of coziness? Never. She couldn’t see herself sleeping with Jamie MacDowell, their baby tucked between them, van windows open to the night sky—
“—and the night bugs,” she whispered to herself as she sank her bare toes into the plush carpet. It hadn’t been that idyllic. Sam wouldn’t be missing out on too much with his parents’ platonic marriage.
Sam’s room was next to the guest room. It was softly lit with a nightlight. There was, however, no baby in the dark wood crib. The snuffling baby sound didn’t seem to come from the direction of the master bedroom at the end of the hall, either. That door was wide open, but Kendry wasn’t about to tiptoe into Jamie’s bedroom to check on him.
Sam was her guy, not Jamie. She wanted to find Sam.
Kendry entered the family room, her way lit by the glow of the television screen. A twenty-four-hour sports channel was on, its volume so low as to be barely noticeable. Jamie was sprawled in a brown leather recliner, all six-feet-whatever of him, sound asleep. Sam was in his arms, fussing his way into a more comfortable position against his dad’s chest.
My guys. They are both mine to have and to hold, for better or worse.
She bit her lip. It didn’t seem possible, but here they all were, the MacDowells. Two asleep, one awake. What was a wife and mother supposed to do in this situation?
Kendry started small. She picked up the bottle from the end table and walked it into the kitchen, then she returned to the family room. The guys looked comfortable enough. Frankly, she didn’t think she’d be doing anyone a favor by picking Sam up and taking him to his crib.
Instead, she went into Jamie’s bedroom and pulled a blanket from the foot of his bed, then returned to tuck it around the baby. Feeling as self-conscious as she possibly could, she lifted the edge of the blanket and pulled it down to cover Jamie’s bare toes. He had nice feet, she could tell in the glow of the TV.
